Too Much
by AllAmericanSlurp
Summary: Bree Davenport has been known for her excessive midsection and her strong dislike of teen pregnancy-not a good combination, and certainly not at Mission Creek High School. What are her thoughts in all of this mess? One-shot. Rated T just to be safe. Dedicated to BTRlover1122. (More characters but the limit is four.)


**Hey, y'all! AllAmericanSlurp here. So this was a request from an author, BTRlover1122, who has got some really awesome stories. Go check 'em out after you're done with this short one! It's basically a one-shot on an AU where Bree is... well, you'll see. It's not really my particular genre, but since BTRlover1122 is such a good friend, I can cope with it. I'm not sure I'm satisfied EXACTLY with it, but let me know what you think by R&amp;R!**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats.

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Bree Davenport sighed. That's all she ever really seemed to be doing, anyway. Sighing her life away.

She was always picked on for her weight. She had a very slow metabolism, and no matter how many times she tried to fix it, there always seemed to be just too much.

Too much.

She'd stopped snacking after school, she'd started taking drugs that'd make her vomit her food, and she'd started starving herself. She had literally tried everything in her power to lose weight, but in the end, she just couldn't help herself. She always ended up saying to herself, "Just one more piece of chocolate," and then she would end up gobbling down five.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd at least had a little bit of support. But she roamed the locker room and the hallways at Mission Creek High School friendless. Other girls would stare at her and point at her sagging belly.

She would have done anything to be like those super-fast, agile superheroes that were so skinny they looked like angel-hair pasta.

Even her own brothers wouldn't support her. They knew she was bad luck and if you spent time with her, you were automatically downgraded in rank.

They avoided her as much as possible at school, and home wasn't much better, either. Sure, they'd say they were sorry, every single afternoon, and she'd think they were finally changing, and then the next day they would carry on as if they didn't even know her. What was _wrong_ with them? How would _they_ like it if they were fat and constantly being taunted for the very reason?

By now, though, she knew the difference between the truth and a lie. There were few truths told in her household—her father was an industrial/technology multi-millionaire and he rarely had time for her anymore since she'd started school, and her mother had started taking drugs. Bree and her brothers had come home from school one day only to see her mother leaning against the pillar in the living room area and slurring her words as she said, "I got to get myself a drink; look at those hot boys!"

Bree shuddered from the memory.

It had nearly made her cry last week when she was walking through the hallways at school and Trent, all-around jock and major bully, said, "Hey, you're so fat that I bet when you dive into the ocean whales call "We… are… FAMILY!"*

And then some stupid jock-friends of his started backing him up, saying things like, "Yeah, it's amazing you're able to sit on chairs and not break them!" and "Hey, Bree, when's the baby coming?"

Everyone knew that Bree hated the prospect of teen pregnancy.

That's why it had really, really stung.

Hard.

They just teased, taunted, and pushed _too much._

_Way too much._

When would it ever stop? She was tired of being picked on, teased, taunted. Couldn't the stupid kids at school understand the turmoil she was going through?

She was literally starving herself now, eating no breakfast, only a bowl of grapes for lunch, and a quarter sandwich for dinner.

She didn't know how much longer she could hold out like this; something had to give.

And it certainly wasn't going to be her midsection; it wouldn't budge in its weight. It stubbornly refused to dwindle in size, so it was her mental health that suffered, greatly.

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It was almost time for school, and Bree was having trouble deciding what to do in her certain predicament between starving her letting herself be cut down by Trent.

She flung a tennis ball up and down, and then let it crash against the huge, gleaming, white marble countertop in the open-concept kitchen. Let it break something; why did she care?

Her brothers came in, Adam and Chase, one younger than her, one older. She was the forgotten middle child. _Of course,_ she thought bitterly. _I had to turn out this way._

Chase barely glanced at her as he grabbed his backpack and said, "We're off to school, Bree. You coming?"

Bree had retrieved the tennis ball and was squeezing it, hold, relax, hold, relax.

"I don't know," she remarked snidely. "Am I, _Chase?_"

Chase shrugged. "You'll get in trouble for skipping school. I highly suggest you go. But in the end it's your choice whether you want to end up at the police station or whether you want to be home safely doing your homework, which, by the way, I know you never do."

Adam sighed. _He was so narrow-minded_, Bree noted. _Does he ever feel bad about that?_ "Come _on, _Bree. Let's go, Chase. I want to join the cheerleading squad today and I can't be late for the tryouts."

Chase protested, "But, Adam, it's only 7:30 A.M.! The tryouts are _after school_."

Adam grinned. "I know. But there's nothing better than hiding behind a blind corner locker and jumping out at someone and shouting, "We're dynamite, we're dynamite, _tick, tick, tick, tick, BOOM! _We're dynamite!" He launched into the choreography and continued muttering the cheer as he absentmindedly grabbed his bag and walked out the door.

Chase stared after him, and said to Bree, "You think he'll make it?"

Bree didn't answer. She turned her back on Chase and followed Adam, only saying, "If you really cared, you'd be asking me the same thing."

Chase gaped at her. "What do you mean?"

Bree glared at him. "All my life, ever since I was born! Grandma Rose said I was a cute, chubby little thing that had fat little hands and plump cheeks and fleshy legs! You've never noticed how I've been picked on, demoted to unpopular, etc.? It's about time you did!" she ranted.

Chase shifted and looked away, and that was when Bree knew he really_ had _known all this time that she was unpopular and was avoiding her on purpose. _It's too much_, she thought.

Bree felt saddened and angered by his uncomfortable position, and with that, she turned on her heel, not as gracefully as she would have liked, and stalked out the door outraged. It was just too much for her to handle.

Too much.

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**So, how did you like it? My very first AU. Review, please!**

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**Footnote No. 1: That whale joke came from this really annoying boy back in fifth grade when he and a few another kids and I were on a field trip bus and they were joking about mean things to say to people that are fat: e.g. My aunt is so fat that she can't move at all, or My aunt is so fat that a single one of her butt-cheeks weighs more than me!, etc. You get the idea.**

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**(I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.)**

**Don't forget to check out my other LR stories, Bionic Ice Skating, Thoughts of the Truth, and Marcus' Childhood!**


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